


Fortes

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Apart from Finn, Breaking Bellamy, Broken Murphy, Closeted Character, Depressed Murphy, Depression, Drinking, Drugs, Everyone's hurting, F/F, F/M, Fear, Finn can suck my metaphorical dick, Fuck Finn, Gay, Gay Murphy, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Murphamy - Freeform, My babies just wanna be happy ya'll, Rejection, Smoking, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, break-ups, outcasts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9524090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: John Murphy’s forte is being an unapproachable loner who has a stupidly cliché high-school crush…Bellamy Blake’s forte is being a beautifully tanned football star who is too perfect for crushes…Clarke Griffin’s forte is being a homophobic asshole who also happens to be Bellamy Blake’s girlfriend…Finn Collins’ forte is being the asshole that bullied Murphy since middle school who probably has a fuck-ton of daddy issues…In John Murphy’s opinion, anyway.





	

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Murphy’s forte is being an unapproachable loner who has a stupidly cliché high-school crush…  
> Bellamy Blake’s forte is being a beautifully tanned football star who is too perfect for crushes…  
> Clarke Griffin’s forte is being a homophobic asshole, who also happens to be Bellamy Blake’s girlfriend…  
> Finn Collins’ forte is being the asshole that bullied Murphy since middle school who probably has a fuck-ton of daddy issues…
> 
> In John Murphy’s opinion, anyway.

Murphy stuck three of his fingers into his hair gel, a weird crusty layer had formed from where he’d left it open the night before. He sighed and lazily discarded it on his bed, it didn’t really matter anyway- he didn’t actually know how to use it, nor did he know where it had materialized from a few weeks before. Or maybe months… He wasn’t sure; everything just tended to flow together. Not that it mattered, not much at all mattered to Murphy. He pushed his feet into his shoes, treading down the already broken heel even more, somehow- why should he care? They didn’t matter. He picked up his backpack and a book he’d never read fell out- didn’t matter. He stopped at his mother slung over the couch, he’d given up the daily saddened sigh years ago- it didn’t matter, she didn’t matt-. He didn’t want to finish that thought. He grabbed his board under his arm. Now that did matter- a lot. If he was stressed, scared, anxious, anything really, he could plug his headphones in and skate until he had no idea where he was and further sometimes. He’d often turn up hours away from his start, only noticing once his phone ran out of battery and the music stopped. Time just got away from him. He needed that. He needed an escape.

He glided down the street, the sound of friction soothing him as Halsey’s words filled his ears:

_But do you feel like a young god?_

_You know the two of us are just young gods,_

_And we'll be flying through the streets with the people underneath,  
And they're running, running, running…_

He skidded to a halt as a car almost slammed into him in the parking lot. “Holy shi...” he shouted and looked up. He recognized that car.

“You alright, man?!” A curly-locked man raised his eyebrows as he stepped out. Murphy nodded shyly, avoiding eye contact- which was unusual for him.

“Bellamy!” A blonde shoved past him, seemingly missing the yards of space she could’ve walked through.

“Hey Princess!” The man kissed her gently on the cheek, his curls flopping onto her locks, creating a color mash of beauty.

The girl turned around, staring at Murphy. Who would dare turn away from Bellamy Blake’s sweet lips? “Why the hell are you still here, faggot?” In all honesty, he had been staring for a long time, at least ten seconds, which was about ten seconds too long. He would normally come up with some snarky response until a set of dark eyes flicked onto his face, “n-nothing sorry…” He stumbled away and managed to make his way half-way across the parking lot.

“Whoop whoop! See who it is boys!” Murphy didn’t need to turn around to know the source. Finn-god-damn-mother-fucking-Collins. The cunt, the asshole, the *insert offensive word of choice here*. Or more personally to Murphy, his demon.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
